


Fantasy Turned Reality

by HoneyBeeez



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Ace/Demi!Kyoutani, Aged-Up Character(s), Hotel Sex, M/M, Sexting, Snapchat, a heavily implied pining Yahaba, i cant believe i did this, what more could you ask for?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 06:05:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14302446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyBeeez/pseuds/HoneyBeeez
Summary: Kyoutani can't imagine having sex with anyone.Well, until he actually does.





	Fantasy Turned Reality

**Author's Note:**

> i want to die

Kyoutani can’t imagine having sex with anyone.

Sure, he can assume what it would feel like, wiggling cold fingers becoming warmer until they were replaced by a scorching dick that would stretch him in ways alternatives couldn’t, a body hovering over him, slamming into him and their skin smacking lewdly. He can predict what his moans would sound like, rough and edging on a whine all at the same time, and he can assume what hot, heaving breaths would feel like as they puffed over his face, on his neck, in his ears.

But he can’t imagine a face. No specific build or features or skin color, nothing defining about the man that would break him into a million pieces and put him back together with a warm washcloth and duct tape.

The thought unnerves him, but not enough to foreswear sex altogether. It looks all too tantalizing for that.

* * *

 

Sext Guy sent Kyoutani another video during work, and it nearly killed Kyoutani to see that notification on his phone until he got back to his apartment. He collapsed onto his bed before holding his phone almost ceremoniously above his head and opening Snapchat.

The video was, like usual, a shot of Sext Guy’s crotch, dick standing at stiff attention in his hand. He strokes himself, carefully slow, temptingly measured, until the last second of the video, finger straying to caress the head of his cock before pulling away, a thin thread of precum connecting them before snapping. And, like usual, the video loops, replaying for as long as Kyoutani wants to stare.

If Snapchat’s good for one thing, it’s this.

When Kyoutani’s committed the video to memory, he taps his screen once before swiping to the camera. He lifts his shirt to his chin, thinking about biting the material before letting the thought slide, and snaps a picture of his chest. It’s the extent of what Sext Guy gets in return, and they're aware of the situation. Kyoutani made sure to make that clear when this… exchange started, and Sext Guy was all for playing along.

He captions the picture “Without me? :(”

The emoji is unlike him down to every bit of his being, but his persona makes it permissible. He sends the snap and gets an immediate reply.

“Srry. U crave my cock that much?”

Kyoutani laughs and cringes at his answer: “Of course”

Later, whether that means minutes after the exchange or hours after as he topples on the edge of sleep, Kyoutani remembers the video, imagines how he would react if he had that swollen, throbbing cock in front of him, how Sext Guy’s exhalations would echo in his ears, how mind-numbingly intimate and emotionless the actions would be, hot and heavy yet pleasurable just for the sake of pleasure.

The hand around himself stutters as he cums to the thought of his mouth filled with cock, and how moaning around it would feel.

* * *

 

“Hey”

“Ur in Miyagi, right?”

That’s the messages Kyoutani wakes up to from Sext Guy, his vision still blurry from sleep as he stares at his screen. He almost dismisses it as a dream. With fumbling fingers, he types out a response.

“Yeah why?”

It’s hours until Sext Guy replies, and by that time Kyoutani’s already at work, but he checks the message discretely anyways.

“Ill b in Miyagi for business tmrrw. Wanna meet up?”

Kyoutani wants to. He’s nervous, with his heart constricting in his chest and his stomach feeling like it failed trying to jump double-dutch, and his face blooming inexplicably red, but he _wants_.

“Sure. Where at?”

* * *

 

Kyoutani’s prepared. He’s done his research. He stretches himself the best he could before leaving his apartment. Now, he stands awkwardly in the hotel lobby and sends Sext Guy a single message, one that doesn’t get a reply: “I’m here”

Two minutes later (Kyoutani knows, he’s checked the time in the past few seconds than he ever has in his life), the elevator chimes, and out steps a familiar man.

Yahaba Shigeru has definitely matured over the past years, his defined features no longer fitting the “creampuff” nickname he was given in high school. He’s taller, which aggravates Kyoutani, but he’s also filled out in ways he never really thought he would.

Kyoutani wants him to move, wants Sext Guy to come get him already, but notes the way Yahaba’s still staring at him, and how Kyoutani is the only other person in the lobby.

Yahaba beckons him over with a quick tilt of his head, almost like saying “c’mon” without using words, like he didn’t recognize Kyoutani, which was bullshit because Kyoutani hasn’t changed much. He joins Yahaba in the elevator, and the man nearly punches the “5” button as the elevator doors close.

The awkward mix of tension is almost stifling.

“Didn’t know you swung this way,” Kyoutani says, breaking the silence but not whatever _Thing_ hangs over them as they stare at the elevator doors as they ascend.

“Didn’t realize you were so fuckin’ hot,” Yahaba replies smoothly, without missing a beat. Kyoutani feels like there’s a fire burning right underneath his skin. “You still up for this?” he asks, which is considerate in an endearing sort of way but Kyoutani refuses to assign meaning to it.

“Of course.”

The hotel room Yahaba leads him to is luxurious, and there’s no other way around it. The bed is _huge_ and practically overflowing with throw pillows, there’s a miniature chandelier that hangs from the ceiling and throws soft lighting around the room, and the windows showcase the entire surrounding city. The dresser at the side of the bed has a bottle of lube and multiple condoms sitting on its surface, breaking the elegant appeal, but it’s somehow fitting nonetheless.

“So, how do we want to do this?” Yahaba asks as Kyoutani surveys the room, already tugging at the hem of Kyoutani’s shirt and lifting it upwards. He lets Yahaba pull it over his head and cast it aside. “I know it’s kinda weird,” he says, even as he bites his lips while staring at Kyoutani’s bare skin.

“It’s not weird,” Kyoutani replies, feeling oddly self-conscious but steeling himself to not let it show. “Just… surprising.”

“Surprising!” Yahaba laughs, the sound bubbling in the stillness of the room. “You’re about to have sex with an ex-classmate, and you’re telling me that it’s _just_ surprising?” He’s borderline maniacal, a rare smile pulling at his lips as he reaches for Kyoutani’s hips and pulls him closer. The warmth radiating off him is something Kyoutani failed to anticipate and it makes him shudder.

“You used to hate me and I don’t see you refusin-” Kyoutani rebuttal is cut off by a gasp as Yahaba dips down and sucks _hard_ at a place near the divot of his clavicle.

“I never _hated you_ ,” Yahaba purrs in his ear, directing him against the room door and pulling him closer, close enough to slot one of his legs in between Kyoutani’s. Yahaba’s half-hard dick presses against his hip like a promise. “And I knew it was you, _all_ _along_.”

The claim makes Kyoutani _buzz_.

“You have a mole,” Yahaba explains, trailing his hands down Kyoutani’s chest before stopping centimeters before his navel, his thumb rubbing a spot almost affectionately, “that gave you away.”

“You… knew…”

“How could I say no?” Yahaba replies, not answering his not-question, his voice dipping lower and lower, his tongue laving at Kyoutani’s neck where he’s _sure_ he’s going to have a hickey. “You’re _irresistible_.”

Like he was drunk, Kyoutani found himself being tossed onto the bed without any recollection of how they crossed the room. And Yahaba’s hovering on top of him, kissing down his chest before arriving at his mole, licking at it perversely as he fumbles with Kyoutani’s jeans. He breaks away, and without words they both scramble to be rid of the rest of their clothes, Kyoutani discarding his shoes, socks, pants and, ultimately, his underwear in record speed and in record embarrassment. Yahaba does the same, but with incredibly less timidity.

“Have you done this before?” Yahaba says, cupping Kyoutani cheek as he leans over to the side dresser and daintily picks up the bottle of lube and a condom. Kyoutani shakes his head, and the confident smile that spreads across Yahaba’s face makes his dick twinge. “Then I’ll take the reins, then.”

Kyoutani remembers the way lube glinted in the low light as it poured over Yahaba’s fingers.

He remembers the way Yahaba stretched him, delving deeper into himself than he would ever get.

He remembers Yahaba telling him to roll the condom onto the dick he’s only seen in pictures, remembers the way it twitched in anticipation when he touched it.

Kyoutani remembers Yahaba gradually easing into him, how the fire under his skin coalesced into white-hot pain until it died down into something much more willing.

He remembers throwing his hands over his face, shielding himself as he gave Yahaba the okay to move, and feeling strong hands guiding his arms to loop around Yahaba’s neck as a voice crooned, “Let me see you.”

 He remembers Yahaba picking up pace, slamming into a spot that Kyoutani had only read about, making his moans and pants louder than the sounds the rest of their bodies were making.

Kyoutani remembers Yahaba sliding his handover Kyoutani’s neglected cock, how Yahaba gasped out his name as his hips stuttered, and how Kyoutani felt the fire consume him whole.

* * *

 

When Kyoutani opened his eyes, he saw Yahaba sleeping next to him, not too close, but close enough so that Yahaba’s arm was tossed over his stomach. Kyoutani shifts, turning to his side to be closer to Yahaba, closing his eyes once more and reveling in the sheer _warmth_ that radiated from Yahaba under the bedcovers, and fell asleep once more.

**Author's Note:**

> please kill mee  
> i love you all so much, thank you for reading this, and please leave comments or come talk to me on tumblr (hijackedhoneybeeez) or come bug me on twitter (@hijackedhoneyb1)!  
> once again, thank you so much, and keep your head held high!  
> -HB


End file.
